


The Warmth of Discipline

by destimushi



Series: The Kink Chronicles [4]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bottom Dean, Cock Warming, Comfort, Dom Castiel, Dom Castiel/Sub Dean Winchester, Dom/sub, Kink, M/M, Sub Dean Winchester, Subspace, Top Castiel, Top Castiel/Bottom Dean Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-08
Updated: 2017-07-08
Packaged: 2018-11-29 11:46:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 841
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11440197
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/destimushi/pseuds/destimushi
Summary: Castiel comes home from work agitated. Dean gets on his knees because that's how he takes care of his dom.





	The Warmth of Discipline

“Work was that bad, huh?” Dean looks up from the stove and lays the wooden spoon on the counter.

“That obvious?” Cas shrugs out of his jacket and drops his suitcase in the hallway with a thud. Dean wipes his hands on a towel, turns off the stove, and steps around the small kitchen island as Cas drops into a bar stool. He takes the knot out of Cas’ tie—it’s the navy blue one Dean loves so much—and brushes his lips against the corner of Cas’ mouth before sweeping the tip of his tongue against the seam of Cas’ lips. 

Cas sighs into the kiss and parts his lips like an invitation as he spreads his legs and slots Dean between his thighs. Dean licks into Cas’ mouth in lazy strokes, his fingers buried in silky, thick hair, and he smiles when Cas’ shoulders droop and his arms wind around Dean’s waist. 

“Feeling better?” Dean mouths against Cas’ jaw as he nudges Cas’ head back with his nose, exposing Cas’ tender throat.

“Perhaps…” Cas moans softly when Dean’s teeth catch on the tender spot where his jaw meets his ear. “I think…” 

“Whatever you need, baby,” Dean sucks on that spot harder, uncaring as a bruise blossoms. It’s Friday night, and Cas has two days to heal. 

“I…” Cas pulls away from Dean’s lips and drops his head against Dean’s shoulder, his fingers digging into Dean’s back. “I want...I want your mouth.” Without another word, Cas slips off the stool and pulls Dean into the living room. The white leather couch is bathed in the last of the day’s sunbeams, and when Cas takes a seat, a soft, buttery glow surrounds him like a halo. 

Dean drops to his knees in front of Cas and sits on his heels, his hands on his thighs with his palms facing down. He drops his gaze, inhales deeply, and with the exhale empties his mind of everything except for the task at hand. Cas reaches for him, strong fingers stroking his cheek before tipping his chin back, and Dean finds himself getting lost for the millionth time in the depth of those blue eyes.  

“Just your mouth, Dean, don’t move, don’t swallow,” Cas says and unzips his trousers, “and don’t get me hard.” 

The leather squeals as Cas shifts and pulls out his cock, and Dean closes the distance between them with a shuffle. He looks up at Cas and nuzzles Cas’ soft dick before rolling it between his lips. Cas hisses and narrows his eyes, and Dean hides the twitch of his smile by opening wide and taking the velvety soft penis into his mouth. 

Cas is warm and heavy on his tongue, the coarse curls at the base of his cock tickling his nose as the distinctive scent of  _ Cas _ filled Dean’s senses. He wants to hollow his cheeks, wants to flick his tongue against the special spot just beneath the head and lick Cas to life, but Cas doesn’t want that, doesn’t need that from Dean.

It’s so rare when Cas needs Dean like this, and the sheer weight of Cas’ vulnerability takes Dean under faster than he ever thought possible. Dean sighs and leans his head against the inside of Cas’ thigh, his chin wet and slippery as saliva dribbled down the corners of his lips. His back is starting to ache, the hunch in his shoulders burning as fatigue set in, but Dean closes his eyes and soldiers on. 

Cas needs him to be good right now. Cas needs him to take care of his cock. 

Large fingers card through Dean’s hair, fingernails scraping against his scalp, and a tingling sensation sparks through him. Cas’ cock twitches on the flat of Dean’s tongue, and Dean glances up through his lashes to find Cas looking down at him, all that blue like a blanket falling around Dean’s sore shoulders. 

He’s not sure how long has passed. Time is irrelevant when Dean’s on his knees for Cas, only Cas’ approval and praise and satisfaction matters. Cas looks relaxed, the lines around his eyes smoothed out as he sat back, every muscle lax. The hand in Dean’s hair never stops stroking, and every sweep of fingers drags Dean down until he forgets why he’s on his knees in the first place. 

Dean doesn’t remember closing his eyes again, but when warm fingers cup his chin—still slick with saliva—Dean starts. 

“Shh, you’re so good, Dean,” Cas whispers and guides Dean’s mouth away from his cock. He leans over and gathers Dean in his arms, and Dean flops like a sack of rubber bones as he allows himself to be dragged into Cas’ lap. “Always so fucking good for me. Take care of me. Thank you.”

“I love you,” Dean murmurs against the crook of Cas’ shoulder, and snuggles impossibly close as he slips his arms around Cas.

“And I, you.” Cas plants a soft kiss on Dean’s forehead, and the sun winks as it bids the world adieu.    


End file.
